While the City Burns (Flynn & Levy Book 2)

by David DeLee

  “Debatable, but immaterial,” Flynn said. “Since it’s not for you.”

  “Then who’s it for?”

  “Kevin Wills, you’re under arrest. Please stand up.”

  “Under arrest,” Kevin said, his eyes bug-eyed wide.

  A thin black woman sitting next to Tillman gasped and said, “No.”

  Kevin looked at her. “Mom?”

  “What are the charges?” Tillman demanded, coming to his feet.

  “Falsely reporting an incident in the third degree,” Brooke Prescott said from the open door.

  “A nothing misdemeanor,” Tillman said, as much to her and Kevin’s mom as to Goodall.

  “Obstruction,” Prescott said.

  “Another misdemeanor,” Tillman said, but both Kevin and his mom’s eyes opened wider.

  “And inciting to riot.”

  “Mr. Goodall?” Kevin said, looking up at the tall man.

  “Rioting? That’s absurd,” Tillman said.

  “The police contend Mr. Wills’ false statements, made publicly on Monday night, have caused people to—” Prescott quoted the penal section. “—‘engage in violent conduct likely to create public alarm.’”

  “That’s outrageous,” Goodall said.

  “Judge Harris disagrees. Take it up with her.”

  Levy stepped forward and placed the warrant on the table. She slid it across to Tillman.

  “Kevin’s not going anywhere with you people,” Goodall said.

  Flynn smiled. “I so want you to try and stop me, Teddy. Please try.”

  “Step back, Detective,” Tillman said as he perused the warrant. “You’re dangerously close to a menacing charge yourself.”

  “And your boss is dangerously close to a hindrance charge, counselor,” Prescott warned.

  “Which will lead to resisting arrest,” Flynn said, staring Goodall down. “In a perfect world.”

  Goodall and Flynn continued to stare at each other. Tillman nodded to Goodall. “The warrant seems to be in order.”

  That brought another gasp from Kevin’s mom.

  Levy stepped over to Kevin. “On your feet, young man.”

  Kevin Wills stood up, looking scared.

  “Hands behind your back.” The ratcheting of the cuffs was particularly loud in the large room.

  Levy took him by the arm and walked him toward the door.

  Kevin’s mom finally came to her feet. “Don’t let them take my boy. Mr. Goodall, please! Kevin!”

  “Don’t say a word, Kevin,” Goodall called out. “This is just a scare tactic. We’ll have you out in no time. You’ll be home for dinner, son. I promise.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Kevin,” Flynn said in the young man’s ear as Levy marched him toward the door. “Hope you enjoy seafood, son, ’cause it’ll be tuna fish sandwiches for you for dinner tonight. That’s what they serve at Riker’s Island these days.”

  Homicide Division – Interview Room

  7th Precinct – NYPD

  Lower East Side, Manhattan

  Wednesday, November 29th 10:45 a.m.

  KEVIN WILLS SAT IN the interview room with his mother. A thin, dark-skinned woman, she held a hand on her boy’s arm. He was no longer cuffed. Yet the young man gripped the metal loop welded into the top of the table like it was a cleat on a boat and they were in a terrible storm at sea, making it the only thing preventing him from being swept away.

  Flynn and Levy stood on the other side of the one-way glass. The observation room they were in was dark. The only light came from the interrogation room. Sonny Tillman was out in the hallway, making a call. He’d made it clear they weren’t to talk to Kevin or his mom until he was done.

  “How do you want to play it?” Levy asked. “Good cop or bad cop.”

  “Won’t matter much,” Flynn said. “Tillman won’t let him say squat and even if he does, how much do you expect the kid to open up in front of his mom?”

  “He’s sixteen. There’s not much we can do about that.”

  “No,” he agreed. There wasn’t. But it did give him an idea.

  Tillman returned to the small anteroom. He pocketed his phone.

  “Ready?” Flynn asked.

  “You still intend to go on with this charade?”

  “It’s no charade, counselor. Goodall paraded the kid on every morning talk show that would have him, spewing lies. It was like squirting lighter fluid on a smoldering camp-fire.”

  “A colorful metaphor, Detective, but my client—”

  “The false report and obstruction charges are just the beginning.” Flynn opened the door to the interview room so Kevin and his mother would hear what he said next. “The DA’s considering filing assault charges for every single person who’s been attacked and injured as a result of the riots your client initiated.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Tillman said following him into the room. “There’s no precedent for such an action.”

  Perhaps not, Flynn thought, but with a glance at Kevin and his mother he saw it had the desired effect. The possibility of facing such charges scared the shit out of them.

  Levy entered the room last and shut the door behind them.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Tillman said to Mrs. Wills and Kevin. “He’s just trying to scare you.”

  Flynn and Levy took the seats across the table, facing Kevin and his mom. No chair was brought in for Tillman. He stood at the edge of the table with his arms crossed over his chest, looking awkward.

  Levy held a file folder stuffed with papers that contained nothing related to the case. “You doing okay, Kevin?” She put the file on the table. His eyes went to it, drawn by the official looking NYPD cover. “Can we get you anything? A soda or something?”

  He shook his head.

  “Mrs. Wills?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Can we get on with it,” Tillman said. “My client’s got nothing to say, so let’s just end this.”

  “Okay by us.” Flynn stood back up. “Mrs. Wills, your son is under arrest for falsely reporting an incident, obstructing governmental administration, and inciting to riot, all misdemeanor charges punishable by up to a year in jail. Enough to hold him in lockup—”

  “Lockup,” Mrs. Wills gasped.

  “After he’s processed,” Flynn said. “Fingerprinting, pictures, the things arrested persons go through.”

  “I don’t understand,” the woman said. “What did my boy do wrong?”

  “He made false statements about what he saw Monday night, ma’am,” Levy said. “By lying about witnessing the shooting—”

  “He didn’t lie,” Tillman said. “Everything the boy said about what happened is the god’s honest truth.”

  “Not according to our witness,” Flynn said. “Someone who was actually there.”

  “What witness?” Tillman demanded.

  Flynn smiled. “We’re not at liberty to say at the moment.”

  “You’re lying,” Tillman said. “Trying to trick my client into recanting his statement. There is no witness.”

  Flynn shrugged, giving Kevin and his mother a sympathetic look. “If you say so, counselor.”

  Levy went back to work on the mother. “The story he made up and told to the press, numerous times, has prevented us, the police, from properly investigating the DeShawn Beach shooting. That’s where the obstruction charge comes in.”

  “And his statements to the press and the public,” Flynn added, “falsely accusing Officer Stokes of wrongdoing are being seen as the spark that caused people to riot. Everything that happened after that—the injured people, the property damage, the cops who’ve been hurt—that’s all on you, son. Because you told those lies about what you saw.”

  “You can’t possible make any of that stick,” Tillman said.

  The cops ignored him.

  Levy said, “We know what you said wasn’t true, Kevin.” She put her hand on Kevin’s arm and gave it a quick squeeze. “You were with DeShawn and his brother Trey earlier that night
. But you left. You left long before DeShawn broke into Miss. Ellie’s apartment, didn’t you?”

  “Don’t say a word,” Tillman warned.

  “Mr. Tillman and Mr. Goodall have told you not to speak to us. But that’s unfortunate, Kevin,” Levy said. “Because they don’t have your interests at heart.”

  “That’s enough,” Tillman said. “This interview is over.”

  “Okay.” Levy said. She stood up. “Officers will be in momentarily to take you down to processing.”

  “To take my fingerprints and mugshot?” Kevin asked, speaking for the first time. He gave his mom a help me look.

  “That’s right,” Levy said. She tucked the thick file under her arm.

  “My mom can come with me, right?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Levy said.

  “What about Mr. Tillman?”

  Flynn shook his head. “You’re on your own, Kevin.”

  The boy looked truly terrified.

  “Your mom can be at the arraignment. That should be in two or three days.”

  Flynn and Levy turned to leave.

  “Days,” Mrs. Wills said. “Where will he be in the meantime?”

  At the door, Flynn said, “Riker’s, of course.”

  “Wait!” Kevin leaped to his feet. “I want to say something.”

  Tillman scolded him with a glance.

  “I’m sorry, Kevin,” Levy said. “We can’t speak to you anymore. Not unless your attorney lets us.”

  “Which I’m not.”

  Flynn took a step back toward the table. “Unless…”

  “Don’t you dare, Detective,” Tillman warned.

  “You fired your attorney,” Flynn finished.

  “That’s crossing a line, Detective, and you know it.”

  “We can do that?” Mrs. Wills asked, coming to her feet, too.

  “If you don’t feel your attorney is acting in your best interests,” Levy said. “Sure.”

  “Stop this,” Tillman said. “Stop this now.”

  “For instance, if he’s got a conflict of interest,” Flynn added. “Or he’s not acting in good faith.”

  “What does that mean?” Mrs. Wills looked from Flynn to Levy then settled on Tillman. “What conflict of interest?”

  “Ask yourself this, Mrs. Wills,” Flynn said. “Who’s paying Mr. Tillman to be here?”

  She stared hard at Tillman.

  He attorney waved his hand. “Don’t listen to them.” To Flynn and Levy, he said, “That’s quite enough. Leave, detectives.”

  “Who do you think Mr. Tillman is more concerned about, Mrs. Wills?” Flynn asked. “Goodall or your boy?”

  “As long as your interests align,” Levy added. “He’ll do right by you. Probably.”

  “But as soon as they don’t, who’ll be his priority? You or…”

  Flynn let the statement hang. He could see Mrs. Wills starting to waver and Kevin still on his feet looked ready to wet himself. He felt bad dragging the boy through this, a young man who’d never been in trouble with the law before and who’d had the good sense to scram when Trey and DeShawn hatched their burglary scheme.

  “Leave. Now,” Tillman said to Flynn and Levy. “I must confer with my clients. Talk some sense into them.”

  Mrs. Wills’ mouth dropped open. “Talk sense into us?”

  “That came out wrong, Anita,” Tillman sputtered. “I mean, the detectives are trying to confuse you.”

  “I am not confused, or stupid, Mr. Tillman. You’re fired.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re fired.” She looked at Flynn. “You can get me another lawyer. A good one this time.”

  “It’s your right,” Flynn said, stepping forward. “And your son’s.”

  “One can be provided if you cannot afford one,” Levy said.

  “Then get us one.” Mrs. Wills sat back down and pulled Kevin down into his seat. “We’re not talking to anyone until we get one.” She stared at Tillman. “One that’ll care about us.”

  “Don’t, Anita. This is a mistake,” Tillman said.

  Flynn opened the door and waved a uniformed officer in, instructing him to escort Tillman from the room first, then from the squad room and the precinct altogether.

  When he was gone, Levy put a call in to the New York County Defenders Services. They got lucky. A public defender attorney happened to be in the building finishing up some work with a drunk driver defendant downstairs. Twenty minutes later, David Asher, a public defender with over seventeen years of experience was in the interview room with Kevin and his mom.

  Flynn knew the man slightly. He’d faced him in court a few years ago and remembered the grilling he’d taken on cross. While he was in conferring with his new clients, Flynn asked around the squad room and made some calls. The feedback he got was that Asher was a good lawyer.

  Public defenders often get a bad rap. People believed because it was non-profit work, the lawyers were either sub-par or lazy and without ambition. In Flynn’s experience the exact opposite was true. As a whole, no group of lawyers cared more about their clients than public defenders. They did what they did not because they were chasing a buck, but because they believed in the work. They worked in the system day in and day out, knew it inside and out. No five-hundred dollar an hour attorney had the relations with the judges, the bailiffs, and the various court clerks nor the familiarity with the inner workings of the New York Criminal court system that public defenders had.

  The interview room door opened and Asher stuck his head out. “My clients would like to speak with you now.”

  Levy and Flynn returned to the room and sat down. This time an extra chair was made available for Asher and Levy only brought in a blank yellow legal pad and a pen to take notes.

  “My clients are willing to cooperate, but we need a few assurances first.”

  “Go on,” Flynn said.

  “First off, the charges—”

  “We’ve spoken with the DA’s Office,” Levy said. “Depending on what your client tells us and what we can corroborate independently, they’re willing to deal.”

  “As long as I don’t need to go to jail,” Kevin said. “I don’t wanna go to jail.”

  Asher patted his arm.

  “Let’s hear what Kevin has to say,” Levy said. “Then we’ll be a better position to talk about where we go next.” To Kevin, she said, “You were with Trey and DeShawn that night.”

  Asher nodded to Kevin.

  “Yeah. But earlier. Not when all the shit went down.”

  “How much earlier?” Flynn asked.

  “I don’t know. I left ’em about one o’clock or so. They was talking crazy, ’specially Trey. Going on about how we had to prove ourselves to the kids at school. Show ’em we weren’t punks or something. DeShawn was getting drawn into it, you know. It was always that way. Trey could talk DeShawn into doing anything. Said DeShawn and I had to break into an apartment and steal something. Something he could bring to school to prove. Like some kind of show and tell.” He made a clicking noise with his mouth. “It was nuts.”

  “You didn’t want to do it, so you bailed,” Flynn said.

  “That’s right.”

  “That was the smart play, Kevin,” Flynn said. That jived with what Trey had told Levy. “So tell us, how’d you get involved with Theodore Goodall?”

  “The next day at school I heard about what happened. Everybody was talking about it.” He looked at his mother. “And I got scared. DeShawn was my best friend and he got shot. That could have been me.”

  He stopped and looked down at his hands. He held them together, on the table. No one spoke. A tear splashed on the back of his hand. He looked up and tears filled his eyes.

  “He shouldn’t have died for that, man. He shouldn’t have.”

  “No,” Levy said. “He shouldn’t have.”

  “I told some people I was with ’em.” He again looked at his mom. “I made up this stupid story of how I ran and barely got away from that cop
. That I almost got killed myself.” He looked at Anita Wills. “I’m sorry, mom.”

  She pulled him into a hug and shushed him.

  Levy gave them time, then asked, “Why’d you do that, Kevin?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Wanted to be part of the story, I guess. Make people think I was cool.” Again, he apologized to his mother.

  “Did you tell your friends you saw the shooting? That you actually saw what happened?”

  He shrugged again. “Naw. That was Mr. Goodall’s idea.”

  Flynn did his best to hide his excitement. “How did that happen? When did Goodall’s people come talk to you?”

  “Mr. Goodall and Mr. Tillman met me after school that day.”

  “Monday?” Levy asked.

  “Yeah. Mr. Goodall said people told him DeShawn and I was friends. That he heard I was with DeShawn when he was shot. I tried to tell him I was but I ran away before…you know. I tried to tell him my story, the way I was saying it, but he said that’s not gonna work.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Levy asked.

  “I didn’t know. He kept going on about did I want to help my people. Did I know who Dr. King and Malcolm X were? He asked if I wanted to be like them. He said this was my chance to be a great hero to my people.”

  “Your chance how?”

  “By telling what I saw, but his version of what I saw.”

  “He told you what to say?” Flynn asked. “You’re sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure. He made it up. What to say. How to say it. When to starting crying. All of it.”

  Flynn sat back in his chair. “Son of a bitch.”

  Residence of Ben & Karen Stokes

  74 Ackerman Street

  Great Kills, Staten Island

  Wednesday, November 29th 3:15 p.m.

  IT TOOK MOST OF the rest of shift to nail down Kevin Wills’ statement, get the attorneys to confer, and for Asher and Prescott came to an agreement. All charges would be dropped in exchange for Kevin’s testimony in court and if the Wills agreed to have zero contact with Goodall or any of his people going forward.

  Flynn didn’t think that would be a problem when Mrs. Wills told him, “I never want to see any of those people ever again.”